


Aufzug zum Himmel (Elevator to Heaven)

by DarkrystalSky



Series: Building Up Walls [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkrystalSky/pseuds/DarkrystalSky
Summary: Deviates from episode 7: Shiro decides to let himself to be captured by SCEPTER 4 at the stadium, in a twist of events that will bring him face to face with the Gold King himself.There's some undertone platonic relationship hinted at, but honestly it could be read as a shipping fic or not, depends what you read into it.NOW (partially) PROOFREAD with NEW SCENES ADDED.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly takes from anime and has some nods to the manga's best parts here and there. For the dream sequence I strongly suggest you to listen to
> 
>  
> 
> [this audio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khB2pTNQPrc)
> 
>  
> 
> Despite what I said, I actually wrote a continuation of this.

Kuroh had no idea what the young man in front of him was about to say as the lights of the stadium all simultaneously turned on, flooding the field with blinding white light. As their eyes got adjusted to the abrupt change, they noticed a small group of people had approached, in a straight formation and wearing blue uniforms.

“Yatogami Kuroh and associate,” The beautiful yet intimidating woman, who was apparently leading the military-looking group, announced with the aid of a megaphone. “This is Scepter 4. In accordance with article 2 of the Supernatural Regulation Exemption Act, we will be taking you into custody.”

The woman then raised her hand, holding a PDA that projected a holographic screen on the falling rain, showing them what looked like a police or military badge.

“Eh? Scep…?” the white haired boy repeated in confusion.

“It’s the official name of the Blue Clan.” Kuroh went stiff, his hand rushing to the sword’s hilt. “They function as a police authority for all matters concerning the kings and their clans.”

“Resist, and I cannot guarantee you’ll make it out of here alive,” the woman continued, coldly.

“We refuse.” Kuroh would have immediately stepped into defensive position, ready to fight, if the man behind him hadn’t suddenly grabbed his coat.

“Wait, wait, wait” the young man whom Kuroh knew as Isana Yashiro stepped forward, a hand on the swordsman’s arm to stop him from unsheathing his weapon. “They are armed and look like a pretty legit organization…”

“Are you implying I wouldn’t be able to take them on?” Kuroh protested.

Yashiro shook his head with a faint smile. “Just, they look more reasonable than the ones that chased me the other time. Maybe we can talk this out.”

Kuroh looked doubtful, but scoffed and relaxed anyway, allowing the man to approach the group in blue while still remaining on guard.

“Ehm, hello,” Yashiro said tentatively, walking towards the woman.

“Don’t get any closer,” the woman commanded, her hand on the sword hilt, and Shiro jolted as he stopped in his tracks.

“Sorry, uh…” he tried again, “I’m not sure what’s going on: you all seem to think I’m some kind of murderer.” Attempting to recollect his thoughts, he nervously played with the ribbon at his neck. “Fact is, I’m not sure about that either, but I wanna get to the bottom of this...will you help me?”

The woman looked at him with a perplexed but not surprised look, as she waved at one of the men standing in line behind them to move forward. He walked slowly towards Shiro, holding a pair of handcuffs. He was close when all of a sudden the space around them seemed to distort and the stadium changed to the main Shizume plaza in the middle of the day, crowded with civilians.

“Shiro!” A naked girl seemingly came out of nowhere to put herself between the man with the handcuffs and the boy.

“Neko!” Yashiro recognized  her immediately. 

The men of the squad looked around with bewilderment, unable to grasp the meaning of the sudden change of scenery. After a brief moment of surprise, once again, it was their leader who reacted more coldly to the weird and sudden event.

“A Strain with Perception Manipulation ability” she stated, looking at Neko. The girl winced, as if she knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Neko, stop, we’re going with them!” Shiro pressed her.

“NO!” she cried. “Shiro is Neko’s Shiro, you can’t take him.” She grabbed the boy’s arm and tried to drag him away.

“It’s as the Captain predicted, a third party was involved,” the woman nodded. “Use the seals, hurry!”

As Shiro kept Neko in place by refusing to follow her, two more men in blue bolted forward. One of them managed to tackle the girl to the ground, while the other slipped a pair of metal bracelets on her slim wrists. Immediately, as the locks snapped close, the crowd and roads around them vanished, showing the stadium once again.

“Please don’t hurt her!” Shiro begged as the first Blue Clansman secured his wrists with ordinary manacles. As the boy tried to approach her though, the ground seemed to sway under his own feet and he lost balance, stumbling to the ground.

“Isana!” Kuroh called, but the boy couldn’t hear him anymore, as new memories crawled their way inside his brain. Memories of  _falling_ , memories of  _an old poster for the Isana shrine_ , memories of  _Neko, scared_ , memories of  _cold, silver eyes looking down on him_ .

He passed out.

-

“The suspect and his associates have been secured.” Awashima announced, purely out of formality, as they returned to Scepter 4’s main building. “The Vijnapti-Matrata System identified the girl as a beta-class Strain named Miyabi Ameno. The Gold Clan approached her two weeks after the Kagutsu Incident but reported her as non-dangerous. We have no data regarding her after that period, it’s likely she manipulated the Usagi’s perception as well.”

“What about the suspect?” Munakata Reisi, Blue King and leader of Scepter 4, inquired as he quietly took a sip from a cup of hot tea.

The woman hesitated, “The System shows no hit. That man doesn’t seem to exist.”

-

The three of them had been placed in different holding cells. Shiro and Neko were beside each other, and Kuroh in front of them, on the other side of the corridor. The Colorless clansman could look at both of them as they talked through the narrow door windows, but they were unable to see each other.

As soon as Shiro woke up, he immediately reassured them he was fine and, essentially, himself. Quietly, he explained what he was able to remember once Neko’s powers were sealed. He narrated them his first meeting with Kukuri and how they suddenly thought they were longtime friends, he told them how he likely created the hole in the ceiling of the storage building himself, as he fell from the airship in the sky, finally he reluctantly described the man who pushed him down. That memory seemed to trigger some weird feeling of sickness whenever he tried to recall more details, as if his mind refused to think about it for too long.

“I see now.” Kuroh said, as Shiro was done talking, “So all information concerning you is the result of false memories constructed by this girl’s powers.”

Behind the bars of her cell, Neko winced.

“Well,” Shiro laughed bitterly, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been proved to be the Colorless King just yet. I guess it’s possible, and if it does turn out that I’m a truly evil person…” he paused to take a deep breath, “then I need to take responsibility.”

Kuroh stared at the man in front of him for a long minute, examining his expression for any sign of doubt and finding nothing but resolve in the boy’s eyes. Finally, he cleared his throat  and sighed. “I admire your conviction Isana, no…Shiro.”

“Shiro is not a bad person!” Neko, who’d been silent until then, exclaimed. “Shiro was kind to Neko from the very beginning!”

“Thank you, Neko, I appreciate that.” Shiro laughed, finally looking a bit more relaxed.

-

Unbeknownst to the three of them, through a set of microphones and cameras, Munakata Reisi had also been listening in to the conversation.

“The  _Himmelreich_ , uh?” weirdly enough, he found himself smiling. It felt as if a puzzle had started coming together from seemingly disconnected pieces of information, with a wave of his hand, the camera feed shrunk to leave space to a satellite map of the city, where several seemingly random lines had been depicted.

The door to his office opened, as his third in command, Fushimi Saruhiko, unceremoniously walked in. “The results of the WL analysis,” he simply announced, with a bored undertone.

“In short?” Munakata requested, eyes still fixed on his screen.

“Inconclusive.” Fushimi replied. Munakata finally looked back at him, as if waiting for more information.

“Yatogami Kuroh’s Weismann Levels are 21% steady, as expected from a Clansman who lost the protection of his Sanctum. Ameno’s are 37%, a sensible value for a dangerous strain, also steady.”  
“And what of the man that calls himself Isana Yashiro?”

Fushimi grimaced before answering: “Waving from 31% to 39%, too low even for the Colorless King, it’s a little higher than most common strains though.”

“Interesting. It’s not zero, as it would be for a civilian with no connection to the Slate” Munakata considered, “and the fluctuation is abnormal, so something is certainly up with him.”  
“Is it even possible for an alleged King to suppress his own aura so much?” Fushimi glanced at his own PDA, which also showed Munakata’s steady 63% and Mikoto Suoh’s value quickly rising and falling around 80%.

Before Munakata could answer, two more people stepped into the room. One of them was Lieutenant Awashima, the other was completely covered in black and gold traditional clothes, and wore a rabbit mask.

“Oh?” the Blue King narrowed his eyes, as the Usagi, a Gold Clansman, politely bowed.

“My King, the Second and Gold King, Holder of the Slate, Daikaku Kokujoji, requests the immediate transfer of the prisoners in Scepter 4’s care to Mihashira Tower, save for the Red King Mikoto Suoh.”

“I see,” Munakata nodded, then added to himself,  _I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping_ .

“If I may, sir,” Awashima spoke before he could reply to the nameless Usagi. “I advise against keeping the suspect close or even in the same building as the Red King, so escorting him to the Timeless Palace might be the best choice right now.”

Munakata nodded, hiding behind a calm facade a turmoil of questions that were likely to remain unanswered once the trio was in the Gold King’s clutches. Even for Scepter 4, obtaining information against his desires would prove to be difficult.

“Alright,” the Blue King sighed, “but I want the right to continue this investigation on my terms.”

“This can be discussed,” the Usagi nodded.

-

He told them he was fine.

Actually, Neko’s powers’ had triggered something inside of him: he couldn’t stop thinking about the memories he regained, the man in the airship’s ecstatic grin as he pushed him down danced in front of him everytime he closed his eyes. And the more he did relieve those moments, the more he felt some sickening feeling of disconnection between his body and mind. Lying down on the poor excuse of a bed in the small cell, he spent a sleepless night yearning for any kind of distraction, touch or voice to bring him back to earth, to confirm to him his own existence, but he could not even find the will to call for Kuroh and Neko.

This is why, when the door opened at the first lights of morning, even if he expected the worst, he silently welcomed the Blue Clansman’s arrival.

The three of them were all brought outside and forced to get on a prison van, that left in a hurry the building they were kept during the night.

“You don’t look too good, your eyes are bloodshot…” was the first thing Kuroh said to him, while Neko peacefully went to sleep again, her head on the teen’s shoulder.

“Prison beds aren’t exactly the most comfortable…” the boy tried to justify himself with a tired chuckle. He bit his tongue before adding anything else about the reasons he didn’t sleep. “I wonder where we’re headed…” he opted to change the subject.

Unable to see outside, with only a small grate between them and the driver, the three of them were full of uncertainty until Kuroh stood up and got close to the grate.  
“Hey” he called through, “Where are you taking us?”

“Mihashira Tower” was the tight lipped answer, “His Excellency the Gold King requested you three to be brought under his jurisdiction.”

“The Gold King?!” Kuro exclaimed in shock. Neko blinked slowly as she woke up because of the young man’s cry.

“Isn’t he the guy who, like, rules Japan or something?” Shiro remembered from the brief lesson Kuroh had given him a couple of days before. “Why is someone so important concerned with us?”

Kuroh seemed to realize something as he frowned: “So they were listening in, they never needed to interrogate us: they simply let us blabber it all out while we were in our cells.”

Shiro rubbed the back of his head, with an apologetic smile: “Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, the truth would have come out eventually.”

“Still, this doesn’t explain why the Gold King is interested in us…” Shiro sat back down.

Kuroh seemed to think for a long time before speaking again, even though he looked like he already knew the answer. “That ship you said you fell from is no mere airship,” he explained gravelly, “It’s the airship  _Himmelreich_ . Her pilot is the First and Silver King, Adolf K. Weismann. Sworn old friend of the Gold King, with powers to match those of that man touted as the ruler of all that walks the Earth, he’s known as the King who controls the skies…this is who the person you saw likely is. I have no doubt the Gold King will want to have a word with you if his friend is involved in this case.”

Shiro took a deep sigh, “Why is this getting so complicated?” he moaned.

“Neko doesn’t understand…” the girl complained, holding onto Shiro’s arm as if she was afraid to let him go.

“Basically, we’re going to meet a really scary man.”

-

Mihashira Tower was the tallest building in Nanakamado, maybe in all of Tokyo. The glass panels and traditional doors didn’t clash as one would expect but instead merged together into an image of tradition and innovation moving forward in harmony. Truly, a place Out of Time, as the name of the Gold Clan implied.

As the three of them entered the building, a line of people wearing the exact same traditional clothes and masks greeted them and escorted them further inside. Once they’d been brought into an elevator that, alone, was larger than Shiro’s dorm room had been, furnished like an opulent parlor with gold and black being the main colors, the Gold Clansman who accompanied them alone proceeded to unlock their bindings.

“The Gold King’s wish is for you not to feel like prisoners but guests. However,” he even removed Neko’s sealing bracelets. “I strongly advise you from performing any attempt at violent action.”

The three didn’t reply, still dumbfounded by the weird  turn of events.

Suddenly, as they passed the tenth floor or so, Shiro’s ears started ringing painfully. The boy closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get rid of the weird sensation that was only getting worse as they went higher.

“Shiro?” Neko called out, grabbing his face between her hands.

“I’m fine...you don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” Kuroh’s eyebrow raised.

Shiro swallowed like he had just drunk liquid cement, “Nothing, nevermind,” he dismissed it.

The elevator came to a halt, but its door remained closed for a few seconds, during which the Gold Clansman spoke again.

“The Second and Gold King, Daikaku Kokujoji, will now see you. Keep your heart pure and your answers sincere and no harm will come to you.”

Shiro nodded nervously, his heart was beating so hard in his chest it almost felt it was gonna tear out of his very flesh. Slowly he grasped Neko’s hand to find a bit of comfort and was pleasantly surprised when he felt Kuroh’s hand patting on his shoulder with encouragement.

The elevator’s doors slowly opened on a short corridor, at the end of which a wooden door was ajar, letting in what appeared to be sunlight. Shiro took a deep breath and, letting go of his friends’ hands, he moved forward.

The room where they were awaited in was large but spartan. One wall was made, in all of his length, by glass panels that allowed the man who had his back turned on the three of them to gaze upon the skyline of the city.

As he turned around and severely gazed upon them, Kuroh immediately bowed deeply and Neko hid behind Shiro’s frame, shaking like crazy and seemingly on the verge of crying. But Shiro did neither.

Shiro’s anxiety instantly seemed to evaporate like dew in the morning, his shoulders instantly relaxing as the weirdest feeling of familiarity washed over him from the moment he looked at the Gold King in the eyes.

The old man approached: towering with his impressive height on the three of them, but Shiro was unable to break eye contact. The man’s simple presence seemingly soothing the discomfort he’d felt since the night before, like Shiro somehow felt  _safe_ in the King’s presence.

“What are you doing?” Kuro hissed between his teeth, his head down.

The Gold King stopped a few steps away from them, his expression unchangingly severe, as he stared at Shiro with something akin to curiosity glimmering in his eyes.

“The fact you’re not intimidated doesn’t really play in your favour, as the man who proclaimed himself the Colorless King,” Daikaku finally spoke. Both Neko and Kuroh winced, and once again Shiro remained calm.

Instead, the boy laughed awkwardly, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck: “I guess that’s true...it’s just that Your Excellency is not as scary as I feared…”

As Kuroh looked up, he unexpectedly noticed a brief change in the Gold King’s expression, surprise or familiarity, that lasted only for a fraction of a second before his eyes narrowed once again.

“What is the relationship you have with these people?” the old man inquired, nodding at Kuroh and Neko.

“They’re my friends.” Shiro replied, his voice steady.

“Are you the person who murdered the Red Clansman Tatara Totsuka?”

This time, Shiro took his time to ponder the answer. In the end, he apologetically smiled: “I hope not,” he admitted in the end. “But I’d like to find out.”

Kuroh couldn’t help but feel weirded out by the whole conversation, Shiro protecting them and smiling as he always did in front of the most powerful man of the country was the last sight he expected to see: a newfound respect in the boy who didn’t even know who he was bloomed in the Colorless clansman’s heart and in that moment he really felt like he didn’t waste his time by trying to protect him.

“So do you claim the man in the airship, the First and Silver King, was the one who pushed you down?” was the final inquiry.

“It sure looked like it. I’m not saying he’s necessarily involved but…” Shiro gulped, “I would like to talk to him!” he announced, once again looking at the King straight in the eye.

After a moment of silence that seemed to freeze Kuroh’s blood in shock - _as in, did Shiro made a_ _request_ _to the Gold King of all things where what why stop it_ \- Daikaku Kokujoji smiled, no, smirked at him.

“You have guts boy, but surely you’re interesting,” the man announced. “I’ll see what I can do to drag Weismann down: he certainly has to answer to this. Until then,” he nodded at an Usagi at the door, “you’re to stay in a room I’ve prepared for you.”

As the Gold King once again turned towards the window, and the three of them were escorted out of the room, Shiro couldn’t help but glance back one more time at the lone old man.

As the doors of the elevator closed once again, Shiro let out a deep sigh and let himself fall on one of the sofas: “That went well, I think?” he tentatively smiled at Kuroh, who was staring at him as if he suddenly grew lobsters out of his ears.

“I can’t say,” the swordsman started slowly, “if you’re an idiot or really,  _really_ brave. Either way, that was impressive!”

“It was?” Shiro sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yes! Shiro’s amazing” Neko thrilled, hugging him.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” the boy sounded uncertain, “he looked kind.” He admitted as if he had just realized it himself. 

“ _Kind_ ” Kuroh repeated, astonished.

“The old geezer looked scary, Shiro!” Neko argued, jumping from sofa to sofa.

The elevator stopped at one of the lowest floors, low enough that the tinnitus in Shiro’s ears was thankfully barely audible, and the doors opened to a large room opulently furnished with sofas, cushions and heavy curtains, there was a television screen and several libraries, but no windows on the outside.

“You’ll find that your personal belongings, seized by Scepter 4, were already been brought in this room.” the Usagi announced as they stepped out, then remained inside the elevator and left, letting the door close.

Neko suddenly bolted enthusiastically into the room, exploring every nook and corner

-

From a security camera, Daikaku kept an eye as the white-haired teen found and cherished his treasured  _wagasa_ on one of the sofas.

“Could it be?” he wondered, just as the door opened once again.

“It’ll now begin your meeting with the Fourth King, Munakata Reisi.” The Usagi announced. The man in blue confidently walked into the room.

“It’s been ages, my lord” Munakata started with a polite smile, “It’s wonderful to see you doing well.”

The Gold King scoffed at the remark: “You certainly seem to be making waves lately, Munakata.”

The Blue King walked closer, seemingly unperturbed by the menacing aura of the Gold King: “Yes, I’d like to give my thanks. Thank you for approving the Royal Blue decree. I swear that the information obtained therewith…”

“Enough with the lip service,” Daikaku interrupted him. Munakata stopped, straight like a ramrod.

“I need you to send a request to the Silver King to immediately land in the closer airport”.

Munakata smiled: “So you noticed as well. Wouldn’t it be faster to board the airship and take custody of him?”

The Gold King glared at him and suddenly it was as if the floor, the building and the whole Earth had disappeared from around their feet, leaving them suspended into the void of space. Stars and planets danced around Daikaku Kokujoji, as if they could only move at his command.

Munakata staggered but kept his smirk on: he knew that this was a mere intimidation, that the Gold King would never seriously fight against him, but the amount of power he could display was still overwhelming. The message was clear:  _do not oppose me_ .

“You forget I have a much broader view of this whole play unfolding,” the Gold King thundered, “your men will not approach that airship, you are to monitor it and send the request but nothing more…”

The void of space vanished, leaving both of them once again in the spartan room.

“Very well,” Munakata straightened up and walked towards the entrance.

“I have a suspicion and if I’m right, there’s a very high probability the man in the airship is not the Silver King at all.”

This made Munakata stop on his tracks, as he slowly turned around: “Meaning?” he wondered.

The Gold King smiled.

-

The television wasn’t connected to the outside and the floor was completely devoid of windows, except some fake ones, showing exotic landscapes they could change at will. Kuroh had been exploring the floor in its entirety, never letting go of the sword they finally let him have once again. Despite their personal belongings being returned, Kuroh’s PDA wasn’t, as if they wanted to completely cut out the three of them from the outside world.

“Hey, Kuro, I’m hungry! I want breakfast!” Neko complained as the boy returned from his exploration.

“There is a kitchen and a refrigerator with supplies. I can make breakfast easily...or lunch.” It was unsettling how fast they were losing sense of time in that golden prison. “Are you hungry, Shiro?”

No answer, Kuroh approached the sofa and realized the boy had fallen asleep, one arm covering his own eyes, the other holding the parasol close to his chest. He looked peaceful enough, probably catching up on lost hours of sleep.

“Alright, come with me,” Kuroh nodded at Neko, keeping his voice low. “Let’s let him rest for now…”

-

_“Say, Shiro-kun” Kukuri approached him, between one lesson and the other, “Why are you always bringing that umbrella with you?”_

_Shiro laughed: “When I went to leave home this morning, my big sister told me to take an umbrella along” he explained. “I thought it was weird, seeing what great weather it was.”_

_A siren wailed in the distance, followed by another, louder, and another in succession. Kukuri ignored the noise and so did Shiro._

_“I told her as such, before departing with a smile.”_

_The sirens slowly fell silent and for a few seconds it seemed like there was nothing to worry about, then several big shadows passed by the windows, as if a flock of giant birds passed by._

_“But she was right…” Kukuri said as the explosions started, Shiro opened his umbrella and held it tight with both hands. A louder, closer explosion made him jolt up on his feet, as he looked at his classmate in panic, but the woman in front of him wasn’t Kukuri: it was a tall caucasian woman with platinum blonde hair and sad blue eyes: “that afternoon, it was sunny with a chance of bombs” she said just as a loud whistle preannounced the collapse of the very building they were in._

_Pieces of rooftop collapsed all around them, but left him unscathed._

_“It’s alright, Sis” he smiled at her, “I’ve got my umbrella. I’ll be just fine.”_

_The woman smiled sadly just before a large chunk of cement fell right on top of her. The floor under Shiro’s feet opened and collapsed: underneath, the lights of the city down below were far far away._

_Shiro fell and for a long time he drifted alone in the clouds._

-

The boy didn’t realize he woke up screaming until Kuroh and Neko, the latter still munching on a grilled fish, barged into the living room.

“Shiro?!” the girl called. Shiro took deep breaths, the phantom echoes of the sirens still ringing in his head as he forced himself to smile: “It’s alright, just a bad dream...how long was I out?”

“Couple of hours max, are you sure you’re alright?” Kuroh looked at him, frowning. Shiro nodded, petting Neko’s head to reassure her.

“Who’s Klaudia?”

It was like if someone tossed a bucket of ice cold water on his head, his stomach churned and the nice smell of grilled fish suddenly made him nauseous again.

“Who?” he croaked, Neko perplexed looked at him.

“You woke up calling someone name: Klaudia.” Kuroh explained, concerned about the sudden apparent sickness of his friend.

“I did?” Shiro said. “I don’t know anyone with that name...”

Kuroh’s eyes narrowed: “Then,” he spoke slowly, “why are you crying?”

“Eh?” Shiro’s hand rushed to his own face and he felt the streams of tears rushing down his eyes, a stone had settled in his chest where his heart used to be.

“I don’t know…” he tried to say, hiccuping. Neko launched herself at his neck. “I don’t know...it’s weird, I feel like... _she gave me something important_ ...” Shiro’s throat seized and his eyes widened: the words flowed out of his mouth before he could think.

The ringing in his ears got louder and for a moment all he could see was a city on fire all around him, he shut his eyes and buried his face in his knees, trying to get that  _painful_ vision out of his head.

“What did you just say? Are you remembering something?” Kuroh tried to ask, but receiving no reply, he decided to leave it at that. “It’s probably this place: no matter how fancy it looks, it’s still very much a prison. The absence of windows is making me want to break a wall just to look outside,” he said instead.

Shiro laughed and raised his head, still white as a sheet. If it wasn’t for the caramel-colored irises of his and the red ribbon at his neck, the boy would have looked like a monochrome figure as pale as he was.

“Wanna eat something? I’ve made some grilled eel.”

Shiro shook his head: his stomach was still contracted, as if he was going to throw up any moment.

“ _The meal in front of you / deserves consideration / so chew thoughtfully._ ” Suddenly, the familiar recorded voice recited.

Kuroh shivered in delight at the poem coming from his own recorder: “So wise, Ichigen- _sama_ .”

Despite the situation, Shiro couldn’t help but laugh: “You’re so creepy.”

-

That evening, when still no reply came from the  _Himmelreich_ . Kokujoji Daikaku’s worst fear, born after that last brief and weird conversation with the man in the airship, was coming to life but he showed none of it on his face as he once again summoned the boy who called himself Isana Yashiro to his quarters. This time, alone.

When the boy walked in, parasol in hand, Daikaku was sitting down at a small table he had arranged: “Sit with me, boy. Can you play?”

Shiro got closer and as he looked down at a black and white chessboard it looked clear as day to the Gold King that the boy’s wasn’t in perfect health: “I know how to move them, I don’t know if I ever played…” he told as he sat down. “So, about the Silver King…”

“We sent a request, it will take time” Daikaku shut him up, curious about the way the boy was going to approach the game more than anything else. Despite the boy’s state, he still had an urgent doubt to settle. “Your turn,” he invited the boy to move.

“Right,” Shiro said, moving the pawn in front of the queen to the center of the board.

Daikaku mirrored the move, blocking it from moving forward.

The first five moves were fast and silent, then the game slowed down and the Gold King spoke again: “There’s something about your story that’s been bugging me. You fell down from an airship flying at an impressive altitude, not only you should have died but you forgot about it later as if you didn’t feel any pain or have any injury.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too…” Yashiro admitted, moving his Knight: “Check.”

Daikaku moved his King forward and out of the way.

“I think I might be a very durable person.” Shiro concluded with an earnestness that made Daikaku smile. The boy looked at the board with a perplexed look: “Your king is in the middle of the board, aren’t you supposed to protect it?”

“Are you suggesting a King should hide away and let his subordinates do all the work?” Daikaku glanced at the white king piece, cornered and surrounded by several pieces.

Shiro glanced down and up several times before replying: “Is this some kind of metaphorical...thing? Moral? I don’t really think chess should be used as a metaphor for real life scenarios,” he sighed, with a weird expression, as he was trying not to look disgusted.

The old man arched an eyebrow: “Oh?”

“It’s a small scale model of war, isn’t it?” Shiro moved his bishop halfway across the board and ate the black queen, playing with the piece in his hand.

“Indeed.”

“If you use it as a metaphor, you’re inevitably putting the two players one against each other. It’s kinda stupid, everything would be just fine if we could all work towards a common goal...”

“ _Freude_ ” Daikaku added quietly.

“ _Ja ja. Das ist genau das, was ich zu sagen vers-_ ” Shiro suddenly slapped a hand on his own mouth, pushing away from the table with something akin to pure terror painted on his face. “What  _was that_ …” the boy whimpered, as the chess pieces rolled on the ground after his sudden push had made them fall from the board. Once again, his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest.

“So it  _is_ you,” Daikaku looked at him with a smug, seemingly pleased, smile as he passed his palm on the table. The fallen pieces disappearing and reappearing on the board, all of them in the starting position. “What’s with that reaction? Are you afraid of remembering? You seemed pretty resolute yesterday, in that holding cell.”

Shiro didn’t immediately reply, his lips pressed together as he irrationally feared he would again vomit words that didn’t belong to him. The Gold King was clearly waiting for a reply, though, so Shiro forced himself to take a deep breath.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted in the end, “that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I wish I could stop saying things out of control, it feels awful.”

“It happened before?”

Shiro nodded, actually starting to feel better, more grounded: “Earlier, as I woke up from a nightmare. I thought it was just sleep deprivation or something.”

Kuroh had asked him what he said, so he probably didn’t speak in Japanese at that time either, he simply didn’t notice because of the state he was in.

“What was the nightmare about?”

“I...don’t really remember. There were explosions...and a city on fire.” Admittedly, the city didn’t belong to the dream but to the vision he had afterwards, still it was best to include it anyway.

“Sounds about right,” the Gold King sighed softly. “Did you consider the possibility that those dreams might contain fragments of your memory?”

Shiro felt his stomach churn: why would his memories contain a city burning to the ground and a woman - _he desperately tried not to think about as his sister, that would be too much_ \- being crushed to death?

After a few seconds without receiving an answer, the Gold King stood up. “Think about it, go back to your friends for now.”

Shiro didn’t speak but looked thankful as he smiled apologetically: “Sorry to be such a nuisance.”

“Not at all,” Kokujoji helped him stand up. “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk more once you feel better.”

The boy walked into the elevator and gave him a small wave as the door closed.

_This won’t do_ , the Gold King realized once he was gone. He’d have to hurry or everyone would soon be in grave danger. He’d have to make him get past whatever figurative wall he built for himself if he wanted to count on his help, by hook or crook.

-

When the Usagi escorted the boy back to where Kuroh and Neko where, he was barely standing on his legs.

“Shiro!” Neko threw herself at his neck. “What did the scary old man do to you?!”

Shiro shook his head: “Nothing, really. As you said, it must be this place. We just played chess and chatted for a bit then I…” his throat seemed to seize, preventing him from talking, just moments before Shiro’s whole body bent forward and the boy retched. Having nothing in the stomach thankfully avoided him throwing up, but the burning sensation of bile up his throat remained. Once again, tears started to flow uncontrollably down his cheeks.

“Shiro!” Neko screamed in panic, looking at the elevator operator who simply watched the scene impassibly. If looks could kill, Kuroh’s glance at the Usagi would have cut the man in two.

Neko dragged Shiro to the closer sofa, the boy fell down heavily like a lifeless doll. The girl ran back and scratched the elevator doors as they closed: “When Neko sees the ugly old man again she’s gonna FFFTT then she’s gonna NYAHH,” she proceeded to move accordingly attaching the metal doors instead. Kuroh sighed and glanced at the boy whose complexion was gaining a dangerously unhealthy grey tinge, as he was incredibly still except the occasional hiccup and the slow raise of his chest.

“Relax,” Kuroh said, gently brushing up the teen’s hair, “I’ll cook you something warm.” He told him before bolting in the kitchen. Neko gave up on her assault on the elevator and instead curled up beside Shiro on the sofa. After a while the boy seemed to come back to life as he moved his arms to hug her tightly to his chest.

“Sorry,” was the first thing he said, “I made you two worry.”

“Stupid Shiro!” Neko tiredly punched his chest. “Hey, Shiro, let’s run away from this awful place. Let’s go back home and bring Kukuri the fireworks…”

Shiro shook his head but smiled at her: “Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I’d be able to run away right now, I’m beat…”

“And you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, that’s unreasonable, Isana Yashiro.” Kuroh stated as he came back with a complete  _Teishoku_ tray. Shiro’s stomach grumbled, hunger now stronger than his uneasiness, as he made an effort to sit straight up.

“Ahh! Yummy!” Neko exclaimed as she tried to steal a slice of grilled salmon from the main dish, Kuroh slapped her hand.

“That’s Shiro’s. If you’re hungry I’ll make you another one.”

Neko pouted but didn’t argue any further, instead jumping on the sofa and curling up to sleep.

As Shiro slowly ate, color seemed to slowly return to his face.

“ _The meal in front of you / deserves consideration / so chew thoughtfully._ ”

The boy smiled: “Isn’t it the same as earlier?”

“It’s completely by chance. This button plays a random  _haiku_ among the hundreds recorded.” Kuroh explained with newfound enthusiasm. “These two play them in order, instead!”

“How did you even managed to record so many, anyway?”

“I asked Master Ichigen to repeat them from time to time!”

Shiro stared at the swordsman for a long time before starting to eat again: “Creepy,” he blurted out with a small chuckle.

“Stop saying that!” Kuroh replied, but smiled as well.

Shiro was surprised himself as he actually finished eating everything in the tray, and he actually felt better after doing so: the nausea was gone and the ringing in his ears appeared to be just a minor nuisance. “Thank you, Kuroh” he said as he laid the chopsticks down. “Now, there’s something I can’t get out of my mind. You said your previous master had powers of premonition, right?”

“Yes, but it’s unlikely the current Colorless King has the same kind of power, as each Seventh King always had different powers in the last 70 years.”

Shiro shook his head: “Not what I’m trying to say,” he corrected him. “A man with the power to see the future left you a recorder with several poems after his death and you haven’t ever thought he could have done so on purpose to guide you?”

This took Kuroh by surprise, as it took him a while to answer: “I had considered it, yes.”

“You also didn’t kill me on the spot because of a poem by Ichigen, right?”

Kuroh fumbled a bit with the buttons on the recorder before playing a certain poem: 

“ _Do not judge the cold / without first knowing the warmth / of the shining sun._ ”

“Yep. I remember that.” Shiro sighed. “Shouldn’t we try asking Ichigen’s help in this matter?”

“If he knew who you are he would have told me, not hidden it in a poem.” Kuroh retorted angrily.

“Fair enough,” the boy rolled a chopstick in his hand and yawned. “But would it hurt to try?”

Kuroh seemed to think about it before answering: “No.” He handed the recorder to Shiro, who hesitantly pressed the middle button.

“ _The fire lights / casting the shadow / of a foreign king_ .”

“This is the same one that played when I found you.”

Shiro shuddered: “That isn’t reassuring at all.”

“You mean there’s a chance you’re actually the Colorless King?” Kuroh raised an eyebrow.

It was actually another word who caught Shiro’s attention. Fire. There was something about his past that involved destruction, he now was certain about it

“You know, I’m pretty certain the Gold King knows who I am.” Shiro murmured in the end. “I said... _something_ back then...I don’t even know  _what_ I said but he replied ‘So it was you’.”

That would make sense, Kuroh realized, if the Gold King knew the true identity of Isana Yashiro, he pulled them out of prison as soon as he could and even helped them and gave them a place to stay, albeit confined it was full of comfort.

“You don’t know what you said?”

Shiro shook his head: “I did this this morning too, right? When I had just woke up…”

“You were delirious because of that nightmare…”

“He wants me to remember, he said that dreams my might contain clues about my past, but…” he gulped, “I’m not sure I want to remember something so…”

“ _Our stories shape us / but it’s how we live the present / that defines us_ .”

“Mh, you were right, Master Ichigen must have had some kind of insight when he let me record these…” Kuroh commented.

Shiro glared at him: “Just, put that thing away for now, please.”

Kuroh complied, grumbling something under his breath before recomposing himself: “Look,” he sighed, “we all have painful moments in our past. I cannot possibly comprehend what you’re going through but...if I forgot Master Ichigen, and the events that brought me to him, I would want them back, even if it meant remembering losing my whole family.”

Shiro looked at him with stupor as this was the first time the swordsman had disclosed anything about himself to him.

“I think that, if Gold King wants you to remember as much as you do, he really means you no harm, but it’s you who has to focus and get through it,” he admonished him, “and never forget we’re on your side. The man I know as Isana Yashiro is not one to misstep.”

“But what if I...really killed someone?”

“Then we’ll deal with it as it comes, but if I may add: I don’t think you could even ever hurt a fly, just look at the state you’re in. Lost memories can only change a person so much”

He never really thought about it. The mere thought of killing made Shiro’s blood run cold, so how could he possibly become a murderer just by remembering something? It was irrational, now that he thought about.

“Thank you…” he smiled at Kuroh.

“Explain to Neko…” the girl murmured, proving to them that she was just pretending to sleep the whole time.

“Basically,” Kuroh sighed, “Shiro is Shiro.”

“Of course, stupid Kurosuke!” Neko grinned, sitting up: “That’s what I’ve been telling you from the beginning.”

Kuroh smiled, as he grabbed the empty tray from Shiro’s lap, to bring it in the kitchen. As he was about to leave, though, Shiro grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him back.

“If I have another nightmare…” he started, making an effort to keep his eyes open.

The other boy sighed: “Let me bring this over there. I’ll be back, after all where else could I go?"

Before drifting into sleep, Shiro wondered if he really was a bad person to deserve making two friends like those.

-

_“Like that, hold still.” The photographer buried his head under the black cloth of the vintage camera, holding up the stick with the magnesium powder mixture in one hand._

_Shiro’s expression was gravely serious, but actually, he was barely keeping himself from laughing as he couldn’t help to associate the elderly man with an ostrich, hiding his head in the ground._ An ostrich from Österreich.  _He couldn’t wait to tell that to his sister, standing a few feet from him, was was also posing for the photograph._

_The powder caught on fire, swallowing them in a burst of light that lasted less than a second._

_“So you can actually make that kind of face, I’m impressed.” The soldier standing in between the two siblings commented once the photo of the three of them was taken. The photographer switched the photographic plate for a new one._

_Shiro finally allowed himself to grin. The woman took something out of her coat pocket and gingerly swapped it for the hat on top of the soldier’s head._

_“What?!” the man exclaimed as the small white mouse sniffed curiously his hair._

_Shiro couldn’t help but burst out in a rather undignified laughter at the silly image in front of him, just moments before the camera flashed once more._

_“Oh, goodness gracious, the photo is ruined!” the photographer complained. “I can’t sell this to the Vőlkischer”._

_“It’s fine!” the woman giggled, ‘rescuing’ the poor mouse and giving it to Shiro. “We’ll buy it. Right, Adi?” she turned around to smile at the two men._

_“Yeah, it makes for a nice memory of our friendship. Right, Lieutenant?”_

_The man frowned, putting his hat back on, with the expression of someone who was used to the siblings’ shenanigans. “Sure,” he simply said._

_The background to the photographs, a giant slab of carved stone, was emitting a low hum, that turned into a higher pitch when Shiro turned towards it. The symbols glowed and the room began to shake. Suddenly he was alone and the laboratory around him crumbled to dust and disappeared, leavi_ ng a familiar modern room in its place. A simple sofa in front of a series of windows of the night sky, a floor made of screens that projected a bird’s view of the town below, a life-sized doll with a mask on, sprawled on the sofa in an unnatural position. Shiro grabbed his head as his ears started to ring painfully and an unknown voice echoed in the back of his head _-No! NO! Give it back! It’s mine! Mine!-_

-

Shiro woke up with a start, someone calling his name. Neko literally sitting on top of him, her face mere inches from his own. Shiro’s hand was contracted on the girl’s shoulder, as if he was caught in the act of pushing her away.

“Uh…”

“You were screaming, again…” Kuroh said. The boy was sitting up beside him, he probably slept on his side as well. The lights in the room were dimmed compared to earlier.

“What did I say?” Shiro asked, easing the grip on Neko’s shoulder. His limbs felt stiff, as if he was relearning to move them once again.

“No, no, give it back, it’s mine” Kuroh quoted in a deadpan tone. “You sounded weird, angry. It wasn’t like last time.”

Shiro felt his heart skip a beat. That horrible voice in his dream was  _his_ ? And what of the Slate’s hum? The ringing was faint yet still present in his ears.

_When did he start realizing the ringing was “The Slate’s”?_

“Neko woke up because Shiro was glow! Then Shiro woke up and hurt Neko and started screaming and woke Kurosuke up too!” Neko rambled in panic.

“I’m sorry I hurt you…” Shiro apologized, caressing her hair. Then stopped, realizing what the girl had just said: “Wait, I was what?”

“Shiro was all glowy! Then you woke up and glowed no more!”

“Are you sure you didn’t dream that up, you stupid cat?” Kuroh grumbled.

The lights in the room started to brighten slowly, as a mechanical noise announced them the elevator started to move again.

“Well, no time to get back to sleep.” Shiro sighed, sitting up straight, head turned towards the door that were going to open any moment now.

“Did you dream anything else?”

Shiro took a moment to collect his thought, then burst out giggling all of a sudden he blurted out: “ _Östraußreich_ …” between a fit of laughter and the other. “Sorry, it was just something very funny...it was a nice memory.” He sighed, “then, it turned weird...it didn’t even felt like a dream anymore. I was in the airship I think…”

Before Shiro could finish talking, the elevator doors opened again.

“Let me guess…” Shiro sighed, “The Gold King requires my presence…”

“You are all to come with me.” The Gold Clansman said. “Take your time, but be ready.”

Shiro smiled: “I’m glad,” he admitted, “I don’t know if I could have stood another...interrogation alone.”

“Kuroh! I want breakfast!” Neko chirped, her worry vanished like mist in the morning.

“There’s no time for that…” Kuroh sighed, stretching his arms over his head -flinching as he heard a couple of pops- before rising up on his feet and helping the other two to stand as well.

As they walked into the elevator, the first thing the swordsman noticed, looking at Shiro, was how the boy looked  noticeably healthier after a proper meal and a good night’s sleep -even though, admittedly, what happened just before he woke up was really weird-. He hoped this would last: healthy mind in healthy body, right?

The elevator stopped, just moments before the doors slid open. What happened moments later took them completely by surprise as two Blue Clansmen rushed into the elevator and immobilized Shiro and Kuroh, the Usagi restrained Neko, who struggled, suddenly unable to use her powers once more.

“What’s going on?!” Kuroh shouted as they were dragged into the room with force. The person who awaited them wasn’t the Gold King, but the Blue King who had captured them first.

“What is this?” Shiro asked as he was forced to stand, hands tied behind his back, in front of the Blue King, looking down on him, sword in hand.

“We’ve established contact with the First and Silver King,” Munakata announced, using the tip of his blade to make Shiro raise his chin, “and he confirmed and gave us undeniable proof of you being the Seventh and Colorless King.”

“Wait…” Shiro’s eyes widened in fear.

_This can’t be happening._

“For the murder of the Red Clansman Tatara Totsuka and for instigating war between clans, you will now be executed.”

Shiro’s ears were ringing so much he almost didn’t hear Kuroh and Neko’s desperate pleas to stop.

_This can’t be happening._

“Any last words?” Munakata raised the sword, ready to slice.

“Don’t make them watch…” Shiro pleaded quietly, his expression frozen in shock.

“Too late for that.”

_This can’t be happening._

The ringing got louder, engulfing voices and the scenery as well.

_He was back in the collapsing building, explosions all around him._

_A lifeless body in his hands, partially crushed by fragments of rock and steel._

This can’t be happening.

_Shiro grabbed his sister’s body and rushed towards the Slate, activating every single power generator connected to it._

_“I never wanted this,” he gritted his teeth, “Never…”_

_The generators hummed and smoked, outputting more powers than they were built for, as the carvings on the Slate lit up. Shiro slammed his palm on the uncanny stone, its light engulfing his body in the middle of destruction: “Hear me, Slate!” he screamed, in despair. “Please, grant me power! The power to fix my mistake.”_

Calling on the Slate’s power was like yanking a chain at his own neck. For a fraction of a second, all he could see was the unnatural cold light of the source of the Power of Kings and then...

_“When I went to leave home this morning, my big sister told me to take an umbrella along”_

Except that umbrella was a prop he found in the gym storage after he fell.

It couldn’t protect him.

_“But she was right: that afternoon, it was sunny with a chance of bombs”_

So  _what exactly_ had protected him? When he fell through the roof and  _before that from the air-raid that destroyed his laboratory, his research, his_ family.

With a sharp  _clang_ , Munakata’s sword snapped exactly in half as the blade came to contact with Shiro’s neck. There was a moment of disconnection, then Shiro was looking at the sunrise from the windows of the airship, before coming back to the room in Mihashira Towers. His posture slumped the moment he returned to himself and he let it happen, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” it was the Blue King’s words that brought his focus back as well. “He was right.”

Warmth.

Shiro was warm, as if surrounded by a blanket as sturdy as a suit of armor. He barely heard Kuroh calling his name in confusion.

The Blue Clansman holding Shiro’s hands on his back let him go and the first thing the boy did was to look at his own hands. He was  _glowing_ , Neko had been right, his whole body was surrounded by a bright silver light.

_His umbrella._

_His aura._

_His Sanctum._

“I apologize,” Munakata immediately said, discarding the broken sword. “According to the Gold King this farce was necessary so that you could become aware of your Sanctum. You kept it suppressed until now but it’s certainly the best proof of your innocence.”

Shiro looked back at Kuroh and Neko, who wore the same shell-shocked expression as him on their faces.

“You...are you really the Colorless King?” Kuroh started.

“No,” Munakata replied before Shiro could even open his mouth. “According to the Gold King’s theory, the Colorless King this time around is a being able to posses and consume minds: the Gold King had been keeping an eye on them for  _weeks_ and only lost them shortly before the shooting, likely when he possessed this body in front of us: a boy with no name, untraceable, alone, ideal to slip back into the shadows.”

“But I’m not that person,” Shiro said with certainty, the light of his aura slowly fading.

“No, after the murder, the Colorless King made sure HOMRA knew his face, then disappeared from a rooftop in the middle of the city. He did so by boarding the  _Himmelreich_ , the airship piloted by the Silver King, directed towards the sky above Ashinaka High School. He then  _attempted_ and  _succeeded_ in possessing the Silver King’s body, leaving behind an empty vessel. We  _suppose_ what happened was this: unable to counteract the Colorless King’s power of possession…”

“ _My own power of inviolability protected my soul and aura from disappearing, bounding them into the body he discarded_ ,” once again Shiro spoke before realizing he did.

“So you remember?” Munakata frowned.

“Vaguely…it’s all really confused” the boy admitted, too ashamed to add that words seemed to flow out of his mouth without control.  _At least this time it wasn’t German_ . “It...makes sense though. It feels  _right_ ” he finally smiled at his friends.

“Shiro is a King?” Neko asked quietly.

“Not just a King. The First King, Adolf K. Weismann” Kuroh called him, and that alone sent shivers down his spine. It felt right, as he said, but at the same time, pronounced by Kuroh that name sounded incredibly  _wrong_ .

“Ah, but really” he laughed quietly, “I actually still feel like Isana Yashiro as well.”

Neko beamed, bolting towards him and hugging him. “Told you!” she chirped, “Shiro is Shiro!”

-

The three of them were escorted by the Blue and Gold Clansmen back in their room, until the Gold King came back from whatever plan he was setting in motion.

When Kuroh came back from the kitchen area, Shiro was sitting with his back straightened, legs crossed, on one of the smaller sofas. It took a moment for Kuroh to realize, from his breathing pattern, that he wasn’t asleep at all. The whole deal was still too weird for Kuroh to grasp, that the lithe boy in front of him hosted the soul of the eldest King.

Just as he stood there, staring, Shiro opened his eyes, clouded with worry and an uneasiness Kuroh was too familiar with.

“What’s wrong?” he asked before he could stop himself. He wanted to hit himself for how stupid that question was.

Shiro sighed and sheepishly smiled: “It’s still eerie,” he admitted, “ _knowing_ who I am, yet I can’t really recall the details. It’s like I’ve been pushed in a role I don’t really feel mine yet.”

Kuroh wanted to believe that, still he couldn’t help but notice how his posture and speech patterns had changed, though. Kuroh didn’t have the heart to point that out, it felt like the boy he finally became friends with was slipping through his fingers like a wisp of air.

“And there’s still another issue at hand here.” Shiro added, avoiding Kuroh’s gaze by fixing his eyes on a specific point of the wall. “I keep having these flashes of the  _Himmelreich_ , and I don’t think they’re actually flashes.”

“What then?”

Shiro finally looked at Kuroh with a mix of panic and embarrassment: “I think being this close to the Slate is affecting my Sanctum and…” he took a deep breath before forcing the words out, “it’s trying  to rebound my soul into my own body.” He put a hand on his own chest. “I think that this morning I briefly managed to swap places with the Colorless King.”

Kuroh’s heart skipped a beat. “What?!” he exclaimed in panic, running by his side. “Why wasn’t that permanent then?”

“Because I’m not the Colorless King: I can’t possess another, so for now his grip on my true body is stronger than my own. It’s only thanks to my Sanctum I’m still here and not dissolving as an immaterial spirit…” he let out a small laugh. “I feel like I’m hanging from a thread, I’m pretty scared really.”

Kuroh was ashamed how long it took him to realize that simple reality. The boy, no, the man in front of him, regardless of his status, had really just been afraid that whole time. Slowly, Kuroh leaned in and hugged him.

“Uh? Kuroh?!” Shiro tensed, caught by surprise.

“Is this a group hug? Yay!” Neko suddenly butted in, her arms wrapped around both of them. Shiro struggled for a moment before giving up.

“It’ll be alright,” Kuroh said calmly, “We’ll figure it out, I won’t let you disappear.”

“Actually,” Shiro smiled, “I already have half a plan. It’s really more of a bet though.”

Kuroh let him go and stepped back: “Then, how are you sure it’s gonna work?”

Shiro shrugged, flailing his arms: “I’ll wing it. I trust you to help me make it work.”

Kuroh frowned: “You’re a King.” he reproved him, “You should behave more like it.”

Shiro’s smile turned a bit ashamed and the boy looked away: “Prepare to be disappointed…”

-

The Gold King didn’t call them until much later.

The elevator they knew well didn’t get to the higher floors, so they were escorted to a smaller, more normal one that would take them to the very top. Once they passed the 40th floor or so, suddenly Shiro staggered and had to lean on Neko to stand.

“Shiro!” Kuroh called.

“It’s alright, I won’t let go before…”

_The Mihashira tower was right in front of him, getting closer every second._

“What is he doing?!” Shiro exclaimed in panic once the vision faded. “Where is the  _Himmelreich_ ?!” he asked the Usagi with them in a panicked tone.

“At this moment, the airship is on collision course with our current location. The tower and his surrounding have already been evacuated but for us and our King.”

“It’s about to crash?!”

Shiro gritted his teeth, so that was why they were suddenly brought to the Slate’s holding place, despite that being a high risk for him.

“We’re gonna have to bet everything on that plan, then.” Shiro straightened up, a drop of cold sweat rolling down his temple.

“Are you alright?” Kuroh asked him.

“Nope, it’s getting trickier to keep hold of this...” he asserted, a hand on his chest. “We’re going through with it, though. We must stop him from crashing  _my_ ship and causing massive damage. You’ll have to help.” he concluded without explaining what exactly this help entailed.

“Of course.”

The elevator stopped in front of a decorated sliding door that in turn opened as well on a humongous circular room, the glass floor showed a number of machines humming steadily all around a rectangular slab of engraved stone.

The Gold King was standing at the exact center, his aura flaring like molten lava around him and the stone. As he noticed them approaching, the aura’s light dimmed.

“Lieutenant,” Shiro smiled. “Glad we had the same idea.”

“And I’m glad my plan to wake you up worked,” he smirked at them.

“Ah!” Shiro pouted, “that was mean! I wasn’t expecting you to put me through a mock execution...” Then his expression shifted to a more firm one. “I don’t have much time,” he announced.

“That plan of yours?” Kuroh wondered.

“You have a plan? Then hurry up with it” the Gold King grumbled. “You’ve been useless for long enough, Weismann.”

Shiro laughed: “That’s cruel, Lieutenant.”

“Wait, wait!” Kuroh strode forward. “What’s going to happen?! Shiro!”

Shiro turned back to Kuroh and Neko, nodding: “I can link directly to the Slate for a short time to claim my body once more. Before the Colorless King can send me out again, while he’s in  _this_ body...” Shiro gulped, looking at Kuroh and Neko’s earnest faces with worry. “Fulfill the promise you made to Ichigen.”

Kuroh’s eyes widened: “You don’t mean…”

“Please, it’s the only way. He’s going to crash soon if I don’t change the course.” He pleaded. “You’ll scold me later.” He then walked towards Neko and handed her his  _wagasa_ . “Hold on to this for me, will you?”

Neko nodded, as confused as Kuroh was upset.

“Is this really the only way?” Kuroh’s voice was almost shaking as he asked again.

Shiro nodded, looking at them one last time: “Neko, Lieutenant, don’t open your eyes.”

-

The Slate’s power was immense, he realized after the link he established with it slowly faded. For a moment he felt like having wood in place of bone, piano wire instead of muscle, mercury rather than blood. Settling back into mere flesh and bone after that was almost confining, it took him a few seconds to fully regain sensibility.

When he opened his eyes once more, the view of the Tower was closer than before, and in his hand he was holding a detonator he carefully settled down on the table.

“Good grief, just in time” he sighed with relief, his own voice sounded almost alien to his ears. Not only the Colorless King was planning to crash the ship, he also meant to blow Mihashira Tower up.

Scepter 4’s helicopters hovered all around the ship as he made his way into the cockpit. Like other rooms, it was filled with makeshift bombs, carefully linked to the commands.

It took him a less than a second to locate the controls who dropped a heavy weight from the side of the ship: the block of steel fell for a few meters before the parachutes opened, granting it a slow descent. The ship, unbalanced, steered abruptly and started to gain altitude, as the man let himself fall into the captain’s chair.

“This is Scepter 4” Reisi Munakata’s voice came through the onboard radio. “This is a warning for the pilot of the airship  _Himmelreich_ : land in one of the designated airports or prepare to be boarded!”

The man pressed a button to speak on an open radio line: “Yeah, right” he laughed nervously, “I’d rather you didn’t do that, you see. I’m afraid my ship is rigged with explosives.”

There was a long heavy silence after that that made him worry the broadcast didn’t go through, then: “Is it a threat?”

The man burst out laughing and replied: “Wow, no! Seriously, no! Sorry it sounded that way. I will now start the procedure of landing at the Haneda airport. Be patient though, I  _literally_ have never done this before.”

-

When Kokujoji answered the phone, Kuroh, holding an unconscious Neko in his arms, immediately knew who it was on the other side of the line.

“Pretty much as expected. The girl Strain had to be secured, though, I’m afraid she couldn’t understand the situation.” The Gold King answered an unheard question, then nodded and silently handed the phone to Kuroh, who took in his  _still bloodstained_ hand.

The same blood that had been flowing in the body he slept next to that very night.

The boy took a deep sigh before speaking: “I swear, if you’re going to put me through something like this  _again_ I’m so going to kill you and I bet Kotowari is even able to bypass your stupid aura, you foolish excuse for a King.”

Kokujoji smirked, he could really come to like this boy Weismann considered a friend.

“Oh, ahah, wow” came the pained laughter from the other side of the line. “Sorry.” A different voice, an unknown voice, but the very same laughter, the same lilt and lightness in his tone. There was hope, hope for this to settle and go back to normal, even for Neko.

“Neko went absolutely berserk when I killed the asshole.” Kuroh added, more quietly. “Even I was afraid for a moment, afraid that I’d messed up, that I struck too early.”

“You did a great job.”

“Hurry and come back to us,” Kuroh scolded him as gently as he could, then with easy familiarity he called the nickname they got so used to call in the last couple of days. “Shiro.”

Neko sleepily opened her eyes.

It was going to work out.


End file.
